


say say my baby

by gasmsinc



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gasmsinc/pseuds/gasmsinc
Summary: Jonny can smell it the moment he walks into the house: the needy, heavy smell of an omega in heat--his omega, leaking slick, needing to be bred. He breathes heavily as he toes off his shoes, leaving his keys in the bowl, before he follows the smell to the kitchen. Patrick is eating cookie dough straight out of the tub.Jonny’s arousal deflates, just a little, at the sight of his omega potentially contracting salmonella. “That’s not healthy.”Patrick bares his teeth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i tagged this as dub-con because while in heat patrick isn't 100% coherent. jonny also chases him and holds him down at one point to make him submit. if you think there needs to be any more warnings, please let me know!

Jonny can smell it the moment he walks into the house: the needy, heavy smell of an omega in heat-- _his_ omega, leaking slick, needing to be _bred_. He breathes heavily as he toes off his shoes, leaving his keys in the bowl, before he follows the smell to the kitchen. Patrick is eating cookie dough straight out of the tub.

Jonny’s arousal deflates, just a little, at the sight of his omega potentially contracting salmonella. “That’s not healthy.”

Patrick bares his teeth. He’s shirtless, flushed red all the way down to the waistband of his sweats--Jonny’s sweats; they’re too big in the hips and too long in the legs to belong to anyone but Jonny.

Jonny can smell the heat wafting off of Patrick. He’s irritated with it, keeps switching his weight from foot to foot as he keeps eating the raw cookie dough. The color’s high in his cheeks, mouth open wide after every swallow to take in Jonny’s pheromones.

He looks ridiculous, honestly. Sweaty and flushed red, curls flat against his forehead. He’s hard, dick leaking, staining the front of his sweats, but Patrick is stubborn, and despite the way his eyes keep unfocusing, he continues to eat his cookie dough. He won’t submit easily, even if he’s gagging for a hard dick and a big knot.

“Come here,” demands Jonny.

Patrick sneers.

“Come _here_ ,” Jonny repeats.

Patrick still refuses to move. He digs his spoon into the tub, taking a deliberate scoop of the cookie dough. The little shit.

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” says Jonny, putting some authority in his voice, but the only thing Patrick does is go a little bit cross eyed, spoon halfway to his mouth. Jonny waits, opening his mouth to take in Patrick’s scent. Patrick _needs_ to be knotted. He’s leaking slick, sweats filthy from where the cotton’s rubbed against the head of his dick too many times today.

Jonny won’t repeat himself; there’s real no point. He could tell Patrick to come to him a million different times, and Patrick would ignore him every time. He’s such a stubborn little shit, but truth be told, Jonny wouldn’t want him any other way--that would be _boring_.

He looks at Patrick, whose eyes have finally refocused. Patrick puts the spoon in his mouth, chewing loudly, eyes losing their focus. Normally they’re a pretty baby blue, but they’re dark now, almost black from arousal.

Jonny steps fully into the kitchen, leaning on the island to grin at Patrick. Patrick smells so damn good this close; like a bitch needing to be bred. He’s been left to his own devices all day, and Jonny’s honestly quite impressed that he’s been able to resist him for this long.

“Darling,” he says, smirking when Patrick’s breath quickens.

Patrick puts down his spoon very, very carefully. He breathes heavily through his nose, licking his lips hungrily as he looks at Jonny, eyes unfocused.

“Darling,” Jonny purrs again, reaching out to run his thumb over Patrick’s swollen bottom lip. Patrick makes a noise, whimpering, sucking the tip of Jonny’s thumb into his mouth.

“You know I can give you what you want,” says Jonny, trying to keep it together as Patrick sucks, flicking at the tip with his tongue. He can smell the precome leaking from Patrick’s dick, and is not surprised by the wet patch in the front of Patrick’s sweat.

Patrick mewls, blinking, before his eyes regain focus. He bites Jonny’s thumb, harsh.

Jonny bares his teeth, yanking his thumb away. Patrick glares at him, mouth open. He growls low in his throat, before he makes a mad dash for it, coming around the island before Jonny can catch him.

Jonny gives chase, all primal instinct, following Patrick through the living room and then up the stairs. Patrick's heading towards their bedroom, where he’ll be unable to escape, but his own instincts are driving him toward the place he’ll feel safest, even though Jonny is no real threat.

He catches Patrick on the top of the stairs, taking him out by grabbing his ankle just as he reaches the top floor. Patrick cries out, toppling down, catching himself with his arms before he smacks his face into the hardwood.

Jonny is on him in seconds, throwing all of his weight onto Patrick’s back, before he wraps both arms around Patrick’s waist. He growls, forcing Patrick down until Patrick’s shoulders are against the wood, face turned to the side to expose his face. Patrick is growling, lips pulled back to show his teeth.

Jonny growls back, baring his own teeth, eyes flashing red threateningly. He holds Patrick’s struggling body down, not letting up his weight.

Patrick continues to growl, scrabbling at the wood, digging angry red scratches into the new wood with his nails as he tries to buck Jonny off, but Jonny has a good hold, and at least thirty pounds of weight over him.

Jonny doesn't _ask_ Patrick to submit. Instead he leans further over, neck straining, digging his teeth into Patrick’s throat. Patrick cries out, whole body seizing up, tight and strained. Jonny holds him through it, biting harder, enough to bruise, before Patrick gives one last feeble growl, whole body going lax.

Jonny relaxes his grip, pulling his mouth away only to come back with his tongue, soothing over the bite mark. Patrick whimpers, tilting his head, and pushing his ass back against Jonny’s dick, where it's been straining hard in his jeans.

“Good little bitch,” praises Jonny, rocking against Patrick, grinding down against his ass. He doesn't want to fuck Patrick here, right on the landing. Patrick deserves better.

“I’m going to fuck you so good,” says Jonny, unable to control the movement of his hips. “But I have to get you to bed, darling.”

He reclines on his hunches, letting go of Patrick’s waist, which is a mistake, because Patrick kicks out, scrambling against the hardwood, almost causing Jonny to fall down the stairs as he makes his escape. Jonny catches himself on the banister, cursing angrily, before he gives chase.

Patrick goes straight to the bedroom.

The bedroom smells the most like them, the most like _Jonny_ , which defeats the purpose of trying to get away, but Jonny takes his time getting there, walking slowly and deliberately, letting Patrick take in the scent of their bed draped in the scent of his alpha. His heat has been building for over a week now, finally reaching its peak today--there’s only so much his body can take before it starts to _hurt_.

Patrick’s just standing in the middle of the room, looking a little confused, but when he sees Jonny, he bares his teeth. He’s red all over, hot from his heat, and agitated from it too, if the way he keeps tugging on his sweats is anything to go by.

“Sweetheart,” says Jonny, taking in the look of Patrick, so desperate for his cock, but unwilling to let his stubbornness go and just submit. Patrick is everything _but_ what society deems a good omega to be. He’s impossibly stubborn, mouthy, doesn’t bow to the will of alphas or betas, and Jonny loves that about him, but Patrick’s stubbornness sometimes gets in the way of letting Jonny take care of him.

“Sweetheart,” Jonny repeats, taking a step closer, but not invading Patrick’s space. “Let me take care of you.” Patrick blinks, eyes going unfocused. Jonny smiles at him. “You need my knot, don’t you? My needy little bitch.” It’s not the sweetest thing Jonny’s ever said, but just because Patrick doesn’t always _like_ being an omega, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t turn into a needy little bitch when his heat hits.

Patrick whimpers. Jonny takes his shirt off, throwing it in a corner, watching Patrick watch him. He undoes his belt, slowly, keeping his eyes on Patrick, who is now watching Jonny’s fingers. “I know you need my cock,” says Jonny. “Look at you, you’re so hungry for it. Need my fat cock to fill you up, yeah? Get you fat with my babies.”

Patrick’s sweats are so dirty in the front. He’s come at least once since they started their game, from the smell and looks of it, probably when Jonny let him have those few minutes alone.

When Jonny’s down to his boxers, Patrick whimpers, high in his throat. Jonny takes a step closer, until he’s fully in Patrick’s space, hands on his hips. Patrick smells delicious, almost sending Jonny’s mind into overdrive, but he stomps it down. His briefs are wet from where his cock has been leaking precome, but he hasn’t been fucking Patrick for nearly ten years now and not know how to control himself.

“Darling,” says Jonny, kissing the corner of Patrick’s mouth as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Patrick’s sweats and pulls. Jonny’s hit with a wave of pheromones, strong enough to make him growl. Patrick mewls, tilting his head back, baring his neck. His skin is bruised from Jonny’s earlier bite.

“Are you going to be nice to me this time?” asks Jonny, cupping the back of Patrick’s head and tilting his head even further back. Patrick whimpers, reaching for Jonny, pulling their hips together and coming between them.

“You have to be nicer to me now,” laughs Jonny, lips against Patrick’s throat. He bites, hard, harder than before, but this time, instead of seizing up, Patrick just goes still, going lax in Jonny’s grip, finally submitting.

“There we go,” murmurs Jonny, backing Patrick up to the bed. Patrick goes easily, struggling to get his feet out of his sweats before he climbs onto the bed, hands and knees, ass up in the air, hole wet with slick, the mixture sliding down the back of his thighs and over his balls. He turns to look at Jonny, completely gone, all fight out of him and nothing but submission.

Jonny’s heart seizes up with love, because Patrick is so _good_ for him, so good that he trusts Jonny with this. “Darling,” breathes Jonny, one foot up on the bed and the other braced on the floor. “I’ll take care of you. I always do, don’t I?”

Patrick whimpers, pushing his hips back, begging without words for Jonny’s knot.

“Sssh,” murmurs Jonny. “Sssh, you know I’ve got you, darling. I’ll give you what you need.”

Jonny can’t resist anymore. He takes his cock in hand, pressing the head against Patrick’s rim where he’s soaking wet with slick. The muscle gives easy, Patrick already so loose for him. Jonny sinks all the way to the hilt, Patrick whimpering and moaning underneath him. Patrick seizes up, going impossibly tight as he comes again. “Slut,” says Jonny, fond, breathing through his mouth.

He waits, letting Patrick’s body go loose on him again, before he starts to move. He’s careful at first, always sweet just in case Patrick’s stubbornness rears its ugly head, but Patrick collapses down, shoulders against the sheets, head turned to the side, mouth open wide.

Jonny fucks into him, hard, looking down at Patrick’s rim stretched wide around his cock, perfect and red. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes, holding Patrick’s hip, chasing the sound his hips make as they slam against Patrick’s perfect ass. Beneath him, Patrick whimpers, clutching the sheets in his hands, pushing back as best as he can. He’s just so perfect that Jonny feels his balls draw up, ready to come, but he won’t, not until he gets his knot inside of Patrick and gives Patrick what he needs.

He forces Patrick further up the bed, climbing up behind him, draping his weight over Patrick’s back and holding his hips, mounting him like a dog would mount a bitch in heat.

“Jonny,” whimpers Patrick, the first coherent thing he’s said in days.

“It’s alright,” says Jonny, fucking in and fucking in, feeling his knot forming at the base of his cock. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

Jonny bites at Patrick’s shoulder, his neck, the part of his cheek that he can reach. “Let me in sweetheart,” he says, knot large and hurting. He needs to knot Patrick, he _needs_ to. “Sweetheart, let me in. That’s it, ssh. That’s it,” he says, pushing and pushing, Patrick crying out under him, scrabbling for purchase, but Jonny holds him down, one large hand on the small of his back as Patrick’s rim finally gives.

Patrick goes tight around Jonny, vice like, crying out as he comes and comes, until his entire body falls to the mattress. Jonny grits his teeth through it, petting Patrick’s back until he knows Patrick can’t take anymore. Patrick starts to whine, his mind clearing enough to start to be a brat, so Jonny gently eases them down onto their sides.

He lifts Patrick’s leg, moving his hips minutely, having no real room to move, but it’s enough. He fucks into Patrick, turning his head to kiss him, Patrick’s mouth lax from where he’s exhausted and tired.

“Jonny,” Patrick says again, becoming more coherent. “ _Jonny_.”

Jonny bites Patrick’s shoulder, coming, vision going white around the edges, hips still moving as much as they can as Patrick squeezes around him, milking him dry.

He drops Patrick’s leg unceremoniously, Patrick whining in discomfort, but Jonny soothes him, kissing the back of his neck and shoulder.

He continues to kiss Patrick, soothing him, until Patrick growls, turning his head to look over his shoulder and glare at Jonny. “My _cookie dough_.”

“It’s going to give you _salmonella_.”

Patrick pouts, looking unable to really say anything else coherent, especially not when Jonny moves, knot tugging against his rim. Patrick goes a bit cross-eyed. Jonny keeps moving, just to send Patrick back into his incoherent state, if only to get him away from the fucking _cookie dough_.


End file.
